


First Drafts and Unfinished Snippets

by Sena



Category: Bandom, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: BDSM, High School, Humor, M/M, Masturbation, Roommates, Snippets, Van Days
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-19
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2017-11-19 01:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sena/pseuds/Sena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I write a lot of stories two or three times before I finally discover the right one.  These are the first drafts or unfinished pieces that eventually led to something else.</p><p>Chapter 1: Frank/Mikey pre-slash, kink<br/>Chapter 2: Ryan/Spencer pre-slash, Craigslist<br/>Chapter 3: Kobra Kid/Fun Ghoul pre-slash, Killjoys</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Frank/Mikey pre-slash, pre-BDSM relationship

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Kiss it Better 'Til it Bleeds](https://archiveofourown.org/works/491271) by [Sena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sena/pseuds/Sena). 
  * Inspired by [Nicest Thing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/254145) by [Sena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sena/pseuds/Sena). 
  * Inspired by [Better Now Than How It Used to Be](https://archiveofourown.org/works/833780) by [Sena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sena/pseuds/Sena). 



"So," Frank says. "Um. Right. So I'm going to leave this here with you and, uh." He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair.

Mikey looks away from the TV long enough to see Frank shifting from foot to foot. Then Chakotay starts yelling at Paris and the TV sucks him back in.

When the commercials come on, Frank picks up the remote and mutes the TV. "So, right, I'm leaving this envelope here for you. Don't open it unless I go missing, okay?" He lays an envelope down on the arm of the couch.

Mikey picks it up and holds it to the light. "Can I open it right now?"

"No. Just. If I'm not back by noon tomorrow, call the cops and tell them I got brutally murdered."

Mikey frowns and opens the envelope.

"Fucker, I told you not to--"

"I'm not comfortable with any scenario that could possibly lead to your death, so suck it up." Mikey reads the note inside. It just says, _If I end up brutally murdered, the guy who did it is probably MstrDon from the Newark Kink FetLife forum. His address is 1745 Green Street, and that's probably where I died._

"Asshole," Frank grumbles, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"You're going to go have sex with some dude you met on a fetish website?" Mikey asks.

Frank says, "Fuck you."

Mikey shrugs. He hadn't known that Frank was into kinky sex, but it's not like it bothers him or anything. He likes kinky sex sometimes, too. "Do you have a safeword?"

Frank says, "Oh, my God. I'm leaving."

"Don't get murdered," Mikey calls after him.

"Choke on your own spit and die," Frank calls back.

+++

Frank gets back well before noon. Mikey's not sure what time it is, exactly, but it's still dark outside and he'd been sleeping before Frank crawled into his bed.

"Hey," Mikey says, turning and scooting over to make room for Frank. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Frank whispers. His voice is rough and a little shaky. "Is it cool if I sleep here tonight?"

Mikey reaches out and pets Frank's hair clumsily. He says, "Of course it's cool. The sex wasn't good with Master Don?"

Frank laughs weakly. "It was good," he whispers. "It wasn't actually sex, but it was good. I just don't want to sleep alone."

Mikey yawns and lets Frank press close against him. He likes sharing body heat, so he's totally warm and comfortable when he falls back to sleep.

+++

"You awake?"

Mikey makes a sound that's mostly a, "Yes."

"Can I talk to you?"

He says, "Mmm," and nods. He opens his eyes and the world is fuzzy, even Frank, whose face is only about a foot away. He closes his eyes again. "Do I need to put my glasses on for this conversation?"

"No. It might be easier if you're not looking at me, anyway."

Mikey says, "You want to tell me all about how Master Don did bad things to you last night?"

"Sort of. Mostly just that, um, that's a thing that I'm into and I never talked about it before. I never even did it before, not until last night. Not really. Not with somebody who didn't make me feel weird for wanting it."

"Sex is already weird," Mikey tells him. "Even, like, missionary position with a girl with the lights off is weird. Fucking awesome, but weird."

Frank laughs. "I should have known that totally vanilla het sex was your kink."

Mikey shrugs. "It's not. I like lots of stuff. Tell me what you want to tell me, already."

"It feels awkward to just come out and say it."

"I like making people gag on my dick," Mikey offers.

Frank says, "Um," sort of high pitched.

"That's how you just come out and say it. Defeat awkwardness through more awkwardness!" Mikey throws his arms up in victory, though the effect is lessened by the fact that he's lying on his back and one of his arms gets caught in the covers. "Or did you just sound like that because the idea of me making somebody gag on my dick freaks you out? It's not like I don't ask permission first, you know."

"It's," Frank says. "Okay. So. I like being dominated."

Mikey waits, then opens his eyes and looks over at Frank. His head just looks like a mostly round shape with fuzz on the top. "That's it? That's what was so awkward?"

"Most people think it's weird."

Mikey yawns and snuggles back into his covers. "Most people are idiots."


	2. Teenage Spencer jerks off reading the M4M ads on Craigslist, Spencer/Ryan pre-slash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote a Brendon/Spencer story a while ago called [Nicest Thing](http://archiveofourown.org/works/254145) where sixteen year-old Spencer uses Craigslist to find guys to hook up with. It started out very differently, with sixteen year-old Spencer looking at Craigslist and trying to imagine himself being brave enough to actually answer one of the ads. Also, it was going to end up being Ryan/Spencer, and Brendon wasn't going to be in the story at all.

Spencer can't sleep. He lies in bed with his eyes closed and tells himself he's not going to look, but he can't keep his mind off it. He'd done it the first time as a joke. _Ha, ha, wonder how many perverts there are in Las Vegas._ He tells himself he'd only looked as a joke.

But he'd looked, that’s the point. He'd looked and he'd realized that there were possibilities out there. There were hundreds of possibilities so, so close. He's never answered an ad, but he looks anyway. Sometimes he looks a couple times a day. Sometimes he feels guilty and wrong and tells himself he won't ever look at it again, but he always does.

He pulls his laptop into bed with him and opens it up. The first Craigslist ad in the men for men personals section reads, _Horny bottom needs a top - 19 (Henderson)_. There's a picture, so Spencer clicks on the link. The picture is, disappointingly, a still from some gay anime film. It's still kind of hot, though, and Spencer reaches down and palms himself through his sleep pants.

He goes back and scrolls through the links until he sees, _want ur MONSTER COCK! - (Bellagio)_ The picture is of a guy's ass. The ad says the guy wants somebody with cock 9 inches or more to come over and fuck him, shoot their load on his ass, and then leave.

Spencer closes his eyes as he squeezes his cock through the soft cotton. He doesn't have a monster cock, but he's imagining being so bold. He's imagining leaving an ad like that one, imagining strangers looking at a picture of his ass and thinking about fucking it.

Spencer's never been fucked. Spencer's never done anything. Spencer's made out with three girls and felt up one of them through her t-shirt, and it had been weird. He hadn't really been into it and he hadn't been willing at the time to admit why. He's still not sure he's ready to admit it, but looking at pictures of strangers' dicks on the internet turns him on way more than tits right there in his hands. He's pretty sure that means something important.

There's not a picture with the next link, but Spencer clicks on it anyway because it says, _lookin 4 chubby young dudes to pleasure - 44 (se)_ , and Spencer is a chubby young dude. The poster says he's looking for stocky guys from eighteen to thirty who are interested in getting blow jobs and rim jobs with no reciprocation needed. And Spencer could reply to that ad if he wanted to. It's actually possible. It's actually possible that he could show up at some guy's house and actually be what the guy is looking for. He wouldn't even have to do anything, could just show up and let some guy go down on him and that would be it, he would have had gay sex. He thinks about it for a little bit even though he's not eighteen yet, even though he'd have to sneak out of the house and take the car without permission, even though it would be a really long drive all the way across town, even though the guy could be ugly or crazy or a serial killer. He thinks about it, but not for long.

The next link Spencer clicks on says, _looking for young cocksucker - 18 (west)_. The ad reads, _am 18, 8.5" cut and thick, white, brown hair/eyes, vers but need my cock sucked tonight. You be 18-25, dd free, able to host, and want me to come all over your face. Send pics and what you're into in reply._

The ad isn't what makes Spencer's breath catch in his throat. He's read a hundred similar ads in the months he's been browsing Craigslist. What makes Spencer's breath catch in his throat is the picture.

It's cropped close, from the top of the guy's thighs to just below his nipples. His cock is hard against his belly, his hipbones sharp, his fingers wrapped around the shaft, and Spencer? Spencer recognizes those fingers. Spencer knows the bandaid wrapped around the guy's ring finger is there because of a blood blister. Spencer recognizes the navy blue and gray striped comforter in the background as the same one on Ryan's bed.

Spencer shoves his hands into his pants, grips his dick, thinks about Ryan blowing his load all over Spencer's face, and he comes so hard he has to bite his lip to keep from moaning loud enough to wake his entire family.

He feels guilty afterwards, like he always does, cleans up quickly and tries not to think about it as he climbs back into bed to sleep.

**********

He doesn't know what to say to Ryan the next day. When he woke up, he thought maybe he'd been wrong. He thought maybe he'd just been horny and it had been wishful thinking, so he'd found the ad again. He'd found the ad again and looked at the picture and it was definitely taken in Ryan's room. He could see part of Ryan's guitar and the corner of Ryan's _Enema of the State_ poster. He downloaded the picture to his well-hidden porn folder, then jerked off in the shower.

And now he's sitting across the table from Ryan at lunch. Ryan who's not even eighteen, the liar. Ryan who apparently posts pictures of his dick online and...and what? And has sex with strange men?

It's not like he knows that Ryan fucks around with guys for sure. Maybe Ryan posted the ad as a joke. Maybe Ryan wasn't even the one to post it. Maybe he'd sent some girl a picture of his cock and _she'd_ posted the ad as a joke.


	3. Kobra Kid/Fun Ghoul pre-slash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First scene of the first draft I wrote of [Better Now than How it Used to Be](http://archiveofourown.org/works/833780). Kobra started off a lot angrier at the world instead of just drifting through it.

The first time he saw Fun Ghoul, Kobra thought, "He's a crash queen for sure."

He and Party had been in the zones for nearly six months by then. Looking back, Kobra wants to roll his eyes at how amazing they thought they were. They'd survived six whole months on their own and they thought they knew everything. Looking back, Kobra's always shocked that they even managed to make it six hours in the zones; neither one of them had been nearly as tough as they pretended to be.

Kobra wasn't even paying attention at first. Sweet Assault had gotten her hands on actual copper wire, and he was winding it around and around a cardboard box and explaining to her how spreading out the turns in the wire would let them tune in to higher frequencies.

He'd heard people coming into the diner, but he hadn't bothered to look up, not even when Sweets had excused herself and headed over.

Kobra did look up when Party brushed past him so quick he knocked Kobra's alligator clips to the ground. "Watch where the fuck you're going," Kobra had growled angrily. Kobra was always angry, didn't know how to be anything else. He wondered sometimes if the pills had changed him because he didn't remember being angry Before. Or maybe he would have always turned angry and the pills had just hidden what would have been a natural change.

So he growled at Party, and Party was used to it so he just kept going, out of the diner, and when Kobra Kid looked up, he understood.

Party Poison couldn't bear suffering, not anyone's, not even a fucking Drac's, and the kid on the floor of the diner was no Drac. He was hurt, though, hurt really bad. He was whimpering, completely unselfconscious, and Kobra knew that sound had bored right into Party's skull and made him feel like he was going to split apart.

He watched as Sweets cut off the kid's t-shirt. He didn't even know how she could tell what she was looking at, there was so much blood.

"You really fucked yourself up, didn't you, pretty baby?" Sweets asked, shaking her head.

And the kid had laughed. His skin was unnaturally pale from blood loss, and even if Sweet Assault could patch up the ugly wound in his chest, he was probably already dead. Anti-critters were a hell of a lot harder to come by than copper wire out in the zones, even if the kid would take them. He was going to die of blood loss or infection, and everybody including him knew it, and he laughed. He grinned at Sweets like he'd never had so much fucking fun, and Kobra had thought, "Oh, he's a crash queen for sure."

It wasn't a judgment. Kobra Kid was a crash queen, too.

The other crash queens who'd brought him in had mostly drifted outside. Only two of them had stayed to watch Sweets cut his shirt open, and one of them had left even before she'd peeled it away.

The guy still there answered all of Sweets' questions in one or two words, voice tense and curt. Who did it? Smugglers. He was sure they weren't Scarecrow? Yes. Had the smugglers started it, or had the crash queens? He didn't remember. Was Sweets going to get a van full of pissed off dust angels at her front door looking for the little bastards who'd robbed them? No way.

The last two answers were obvious lies.

"You head down to see Denny out in the wastes," Sweet Assault told the kid standing by the door. "You tell him Sweets wants some anti-critters and that he fucking owes her."

The kid said, "Yeah, okay," and then he was gone. He never came back. Kobra Kid figured he and the other crash queens had either gotten the meds from Denny and sold them or they'd never even bothered to go at all, leaving their friend behind to die on the dirty floor of what had once been a diner.

He still doesn't know why he didn’t just leave, too. He could have crashed on the mattress he shared with Party, could have popped a couple of delights to make him go cosmic and not come back to earth until the kid was dead and burned. He didn't, though. He sat in the diner and watched Sweets work and then he boiled water for her when she demanded it and held the screaming kid down when Sweets started digging around in his flesh for shrapnel.

The kid passed out after five or six minutes, which was a relief. Just because Kobra could bear to be in the same room with somebody in agony didn't mean he liked it. It was easier after that, easier to do everything Sweets told him to without also having to worry about the kid sobbing and jerking to get away and gritting his teeth to hold in the screams.

The crash queen had pissed himself just before he passed out. Kobra thought he probably would have pissed himself, too, if he'd had someone cutting apart and stitching up his flesh without even a pax or two to take the edge off. He helped Sweets clean the kid up and he was wiping the blood off the kid's face when he felt something just as strong as anger.

He wouldn't ever tell Party, but he hated feeling things. There were days when he wished they were back in Battery City. There were days when he wished that no matter what was wrong, all he ever had to do was take a pill. He wished he hadn't been so fucked up that the pills stopped working. He wished he'd never told Party the truth. He told Party that the pax didn't do anything, the dialat was useless, the vivi just made him want to sleep. If he'd never done that, maybe Party Poison wouldn't have admitted that he'd stopped taking the pills on purpose. Maybe he never would have taken Kobra into the tunnels where people did things like make music, like create art.

Maybe if Kobra hadn't told Party the truth, he would have just told someone from BLI instead. He would have told someone who could have figured out what other pills to give him. He would have been taking the new pills, so his mother would have never found the stash he hid under his mattress and sold in the underground. She never would have realized her boys were dissenters and she never would have turned them in and then Kobra Kid and Party Poison wouldn't have frozen in fear at the sight of Dracs in one of the underground tunnels, coming for them. They wouldn't have had to start running. They wouldn't have had to leave everything behind.

Kobra hated the way it felt to look at the kid's face and want to kiss him. He hated how scared he was that the kid would die before he ever got the chance. He hated the heat that pooled low in his belly when he helped Sweets strip the kid's clothes off and wipe him down.

Once there was nothing left to do but wait, Sweet Assault went back to assembling the water filter Kobra'd designed for her and he almost went back to the copper wire antenna, but he didn't want to be in the same room anymore, didn't want to look over and see the kid's pale pink mouth or his shock of black hair or the way the blankets pulled down enough for Kobra to see the bar code tattooed over his heart.

"Is he dead?" Party asked softly as Kobra stepped outside. He was leaning against the shell of a Trans Am that somebody'd stripped for parts long before even Sweet Assault had taken the diner for her own.

Kobra shook his head, and because he was still pissed at Party for knocking over his supplies and because he was pissed at himself for wanting to kiss some kid who was unconscious and dying and because his blood still felt like it was running too hot in his veins, he dug in his pocket for the small plastic bottle he kept the best pills in.

"Don't," Party said softly.

Kobra held the pills up for him to see. Bright green and glittering in the sun, not at all like the plain white tablets BLI made.

"Just talk to me instead. You have every reason to be upset right now, to feel anxious or angry or scared or helpless. So talk to me. Tell me. Don't just cover it up."

Kobra swallowed the pills dry and said, "I want to fuck that kid, even though he's half dead." He turned away before he could see the look on Party's face and headed out to the shed he and Party lived in.

His dreams were swirling and beautiful and he wasn't sure they were dreams after a while. They could have been hallucinations. They could have been real.

The come down was bad. It wasn't anything like getting off his BLI regimen, since he'd still been addicted to the fucking things even after they'd stopped working. It wasn't nearly as bad as that, but it was a hard crash nevertheless. Sweets came to see him in the shed when he was shivering beneath sweat soaked sheets. She asked him what the trip had been like and he told her and she gave him the first cup of her newly purified water.

Party Poison was there the next time Kobra came to. His muscles ached like he'd been running for days, but other than that he was fine. He turned slowly onto his side and watched as Party fed Baby Girl little bites of apple. He had no idea where Party had found real fruit, but it didn't surprise him to see Party giving it away to a toddler who didn't even know that she was getting something rare.

When Baby Girl saw he was awake, she smiled and hurried over to him. She said, "Apple?" and took a piece of it right out of her own mouth and put it into Kobra's.

He laughed and chewed it and said, "Mmm, thanks Baby Girl," even though it was sort of gross.


End file.
